


Brighter Points

by Gentle_Poppy



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: At least in one dimension, Ford is a butt, Gen, Mystery Trio AU, a couple of original characters, abuse of quantum mechanics, i added the graphic violence tag just in case i get carried away, multiple Fords, multiple everybody, random segments from the reader's perspective, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-20
Updated: 2017-06-19
Packaged: 2018-11-16 07:09:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11248839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gentle_Poppy/pseuds/Gentle_Poppy
Summary: In the grand scheme of things, few people make enough of a difference to cause quantum splits. Stanford Pines, for better or for worse, is one of those people. Like a bright point seen from space, he attracts the attention of anomalous creatures far and wide. But he doesn't know it.Or at least, not all of his recurring versions do. What would you do if a copy of yourself showed up on your doorstep and sent you on a murder mission? (If you're Ford, you grab the warhammer and hit the road.)





	Brighter Points

**Author's Note:**

  * For [The Original Adrien Commons](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=The+Original+Adrien+Commons).



> I'm,,,, rusty? And very sorry for just...everything. rek me in the comments

Picture with us, for a moment, the multiverse from above.

 

Spread out like a map in glimmering cosmic sections. Ebbing and flowing. Time does not exist here. This moment and the next and the one a thousand human years before it and after it exist in overlapping circles all at once.

 

It is…spread out. Chaotic and orderly in its chaos. You cannot see to the edges of it; its plane is too far flung. But focus for a moment on the ones in your line of vision. Perhaps a thousand that you can see. Everything is a cold black. There are faint lines where one dimension bleeds into another.

 

But all throughout the map you can see bright points. They recur. They shine through any timeline and any scenario. These are the people who make a difference in the vast universe, enough to warrant notice from the proverbial vestiges of space, like the distant desperation of a star. There are infinite versions of them. You may see Nikola Tesla. You may see Albert Einstein, and more: Martin Luther King, Julius Caesar and countless others - regrettably, Adam Sandler is also there.

 

You would see the Pineses. Generally where there is one the others will be gathered in a tight cluster. Stan Pines is brimming with determination and unbridled loyalty. Mabel Pines, a dazzling force like the seven sisters of the milky way all crammed into one. Dipper Pines, anxiety and curiosity ever battling for dominance; the smell of woodland secrets - and Ford Pines is far away from the others, whether by way of space or the isolating properties of his own tumultuous mind.

 

You would see Adrien Commons. Hold your shudders. The Overlord Adriens give others of their kind a bad name. Somewhere there are Adriens who are settled in and happy in a domestic city life surrounded by well-cooked food and people whom he cares about. Ignore the flock of predatorial birds that sweep across his presence. They mean no harm. Ignore his bad blog posts. Or don’t. Sometimes he is funny. Always, he is smart.

 

You would see Bill Cipher of course. He is so entwined with the human history that many earth-based dimensions could not exist independently of him. His presence is sharp and fades in and out as he jumps through the dreams of those fated to his whims. Maybe you feel as though he is looking at you. (Look away.) Unlike Adrien Commons there is no exception to the rule, the rule of Bill. A Bill without his cruelty and cunning is no longer a Bill at all. Bill doesn’t change. (Stop that now. Look away.)

 

There is a flickering point that overlaps itself and seems to exist in a million places at once but at the same time holds steady in one corner of your vision. Do not focus on her for too long. She is a vastly unstable force.

 

Do not focus on the branches of darkness that creep across the plains where something used to be. Who put it there? Overlord Adrien 165*. Do not focus on it. There are plenty of other things to see.

* * *

 

Stan Pines (Γ17) has seen a lot, just a lot of things, really disturbing stuff. It comes along with having a brother who seems to attract and even cause paranormal phenomena no matter where he goes. He saw a guy disemboweled at the claws of an actual werebeast once. He saw a guy disemboweled at the hands of his own brother. (Desperate times.) But at this particular point in time he is staring at __three Ford Pineses.__ And only one of them is his twin.

 

The Fords are standing on the doorstep of Stan’s neck of the woods. (It’s a rather nice cabin he shares with his Ford and his Ford’s college roommate.) One of them seems weathered like a tree fallen prey to the vestiges of many seasons. His hair is grey and yet he retains an air that suggests he could pummel Stan into the ground. Not too shoddy for an old guy. The second is missing an arm. Stan will call him Ford Lite. __I’m hilarious,__  he thinks. The third Ford is his Ford. Watching them, too many of them (more than one Ford will always be too many to handle), a headache starts at the base of Stan’s neck, sharp and brutal.

 

They had a clone fiasco last year, something about this broken copier that Fiddleford snagged from behind a Kirbo’s. Could these guys be left over from that? But it’s rained since then.

 

Ford (his Ford) took one look at them out the window when they arrived, and told Stanley, __stay here.__  Ford is the one who deals with this type of weird happening. Ford seems to be handling himself pretty well. But Stan has a revolver tucked in the back of his jeans and is ready to use it if the Impostor Fords get threatening. (Right? They’re not the Real Ford. He could shoot if he needed to. Right?)

 

“Do you know of a man named Adrien Commons?” asks the old Ford, Ford Vintage, Stan decides.

 

“No, I don’t think so”, answers the Real Ford.

 

“Good”, mumbles Ford Vintage, pacing the porch in agitation. “He hasn’t yet taken power in this dimension. But he will. I’m almost certain.”

 

“I’m sorry, just repeat for me -” Real Ford, always with his questions. “You said the two of you came from another dimension? What happened to me, that I would lose an arm?”

 

“Take it from an older, wiser version of yourself”, intervenes Ford Vintage in a clipped tone: “You don’t have to know everything, all the time. This is more important. Stop asking questions.”

 

Ford Lite pulls an 8x10 photo out of his breast pocket swiftly. “This is Adrien Commons”, he tells the real Ford. “Like all the other people - people like us - who make enough of a difference in the grand scheme of things, there are many copies of him spread throughout the multiverse. You need to find Adrien Γ17 and kill him as soon as possible.”

 

Real Ford is taken aback. “Kill him? For what?”

 

“It’s not a matter of what he’s done, it’s what he will do. Adriens have the potential for global destruction. One of them has already succeeded in erasing…well, nevermind that now. The important thing is that we stop as many as we can before they get smart, band together, and take dominion.”

 

“Why me? Why not - report him to the police? Hire someone…?”

 

“Ford”, says Ford Vintage, “Don’t trust anyone but yourself.”

 

“If he hasn’t learned that by now he’s in for a whole heap of trouble”, grumbles Ford Lite.

 

Real Ford folds his arms. “Go after this Commons man yourself and kill him, if it’s so important. You’re already here, after all. Don’t expect me to do your dirty work just because I’m you.”

 

“We don’t have enough time here to do that. Already we’re cutting it close. There’s a vast instability in this dimension that makes it hard for outsiders to stay for long. You’re the only one we can count on to do this, Ford. Heed our requests or suffer the repercussions in the future.” Ford Vintage turns and heads down the porch steps, head held at arrogant height. The universal Ford Sign that a conversation is over. (They’re so alike. Stanley’s migraine spreads.)

 

“You’re lucky enough to still have your Stan”, says Ford Lite before he goes. “You don’t know what a big deal that is, for so many Fords. If you don’t eliminate Adrien Commons from the picture you will lose everything. Including him.” Ford Lite turns and, unmistakably, stares straight at Stan through the window. Stan resists the urge to flinch backwards.

 

Once inside, Ford (his Ford) loses his earlier composure. He’s pacing, pacing. “I __knew it__ ”, he hisses, “I knew other dimensions existed somewhere out there! There’s my proof, Stan! Did you get a picture - ? It’s obvious that other versions of myself have long since perfected interdimensional travel! This has to mean we’re close. I should’ve asked more questions. I intimidate myself, I guess, Stan. Oh, Stan…” Ford stops in the middle of a restless circuit. “What if I’m the last Ford to have not figured it out? I’m late to my own game…”

 

“I have a migraine, Ford.”

 

“Me too…” Ford crumples the photo in his hands and then seems to remember he’s holding it. “Adrien Commons. What could this man have done, for there to be people seeking to eliminate every version of him?”

 

“Hey, how do you think that…other you lost his arm? I named him Ford Lite, by the way.”

 

Ford snorts, still looking down at the photograph. “Who knows. Maybe he’s from a dimension where I don’t escape that werebeast unscathed. Where it was me instead of that other guy.”

 

“A moment of silence for Georgino, werebeast bait.”

 

Ford sits down hard on the tile floor of the kitchen, looking dazed. “I have to tell Fiddleford”, he mutters. “And we need to…we have to track down Adrien Commons. Didn’t you know a guy who could find people…?”

 

“Wait, you really wanna do this?” Stan sits down next to him, the chill of the tiles working its way through his jeans. The revolver presses heavy into his back. “You wanna go kill a guy just cause some other versions of you jumped around through space-time and told you to?”

 

“It’s like they said, Stan. I have to trust myself. I trust myself more than anybody else.”

 

“Yeah, cause you’re a huge narcissist -”

 

“Besides, you’ve killed a man for less!”

 

Stan bristles. “ _ _Don’t.__ You know we don’t talk about that. Don’t you bring that up, Ford, that’s low and you know it - ! It was the __one time -”__

__

“He could destroy our universe, Stan!” Ford throws the crumpled photograph pathetically across the kitchen. “Surely it’s worth at least looking into. Besides…I want to know how.”

 

“How what?”

 

“How he could destroy it. Maybe Adrien Commons….this Adrien Commons has plans already. A way to break through the dimensional barrier…what did they say? Gamma-seventeen? That must be how they denote this dimension. We save the world, we figure out what it is that we’ve been missing…we kill two birds with one stone.”

 

“You’ll have to talk to Fiddleford”, says Stan dubiously. “About all this. With our luck this Commons guy is all the way on the other side of the country. We may be up for a long flight, uh, drive. You know I can’t do planes. Maybe one of us oughta stay behind.”

 

“You’re right, who knows how long we could be gone…”

 

“We have to find someone to take care of Gompers.”

 

“You’re worried about your goat?!”

 

“He can’t be left out at night, Ford! You know that!”

 

Ford retrieves the 8x10 of Adrien Commons’s face. He hands it to Stan, who gets a good look at it for the first time. Average looking guy. Kinda pale, serious eyebrow action, but his eyes have mischief in them. His glasses are smudged. He looks harmless enough. But smart. Stan knows smart can be dangerous.

 

“Bring this to whoever can track him down, and be back before dark, please. I know what type of company you tend to attract.”

 

“Yeah, yeah, says the guy whose pheromones apparently attract every pixie within a three-mile radius.”

 

“It was the one time - !”

 

Chuckling, Stan folds the photograph messily into his pocket; grabs a wad of cash from the drawer by the fridge; pats the revolver to ensure its continued presence. Time to go.

* * *

 

Does this seem familiar to you? Yes, the Pineses in their multitudes. It is a tale told in our time quite frequently, in many versions.

 

The ‘real’ version? There is no real version. Every version is as real as any of the others. Even one you make up here, on the spot, has probably happened at some point in the multiverse. But why think of that? Why ask how things play out when you have a chance to see it for yourself?

 

But do not interfere.

 

We are watchers only. Even then it takes some practice to understand what it is we are seeing. There are so many layers, so many fragile networks, burning bright in their futility.

 

It’s funny sometimes, how desperate they are to make a difference. They never realize how small they are in the grand scheme of things.

 

Remember, we are dreams. We are intangible. Remember down there, among those nets and fissures of chronology and humanity, there is no place for us.

 

Learn from it. But do not focus on a place you know you cannot exist.

**Author's Note:**

> The formatting is probably shot.
> 
> Anyway the 'abuse of quantum mechanics' tag? Yeah, that's there for a reason. I'm planning to BUTCHER multiverse theory here. 
> 
> Also, Ford Lite is my favorite. I just want everyone to know that.


End file.
